


Of Cats and Castles

by StBridget



Series: Of Phoenix and Fosters [2]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Adoption, Fluff, Gen, Pets, literal fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:29:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21626854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StBridget/pseuds/StBridget
Summary: Mac and Newton get settled, and Mac builds a special enclosure for Newton.
Series: Of Phoenix and Fosters [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558723
Comments: 77
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> MacGyver is property of CBS and its creators.
> 
> Picks up immediately after Of Rogues and Rescues. Read that first, or it won't make any sense.

Mac called over the volunteer he’d spoken to before. “I’d like to adopt Newton.”

She looked at him, blankly. “We don’t have a cat named Newton. Maybe one of the other rescues. . .”

Oops. Mac was definitely already attached if he was already thinking of the cat as Newton, not Bob. “Sorry.” He lifted the cage he was holding. “This one. The pixie-bob. Bob.”

A smile lit up the volunteer’s face. “I knew it!” she crowed. “I told Mallory you were going to adopt him! She didn’t believe me. I can tell you’re going to make a great pet parent.”

Mac blushed at her praise. “I hope so. I’m still worried about traveling.”

“He’ll be fine,” the volunteer assured him. “Just leave him plenty of food and water and maybe have someone check on him once a day.”

“I can do that.” Surely, Mac could find someone to stop in, right? Matty was the obvious choice. Mac could just hear her. “I’m not a petsitter, Blondie. Find someone else.” Mac knew she’d come around though. She didn’t want anyone to know, but Matty was a big softy.

“Let’s get you checked out.” The volunteer led him over to where Riley was set up. Mac noticed a fluffy, white toy poodle was reclining on her lap. “We have our first adoption,” she told Riley. “The Cat’s Meow.”

Riley pulled up the relevant rescue on her computer. “You’re the first adoption of the day. The event hasn’t even started yet. Who’s the lucky new pet parent?”

“Me,” Mac said.

Riley looked at him, seeing him for the first time. “You? Not that I can’t see you as a pet parent, but I’d think we travel too much.”

“Yeah, I thought so, too, but the volunteer says if I leave out food and water and have someone check in once a day, Newton will be fine,” Mac said.

“Newton, huh? Sounds like the cat you’d adopt.” Riley pulled up the relevant rescue and started scrolling. “Don’t have a Newton.”

“His name’s Bob, now,” Mac said. “I’m changing it.”

“Ah, Bob. Have him right here.” Riley printed out the adoption form. “Still can’t believe you’re doing this.”

Mac gestured at the poodle in Riley’s lap. “You should talk.”

“I haven’t decided to adopt her yet,” Riley defended herself, then blushed. “I mean. . .I’m not going to adopt her.”

“Sure. . .” Mac said. “I don’t think Jack and I are the only ones walking out with pets.”

“Jack’s adopting?” Riley asked, surprised.

“Yeah, he found a rottweiler. He’s going to ask his neighbor’s kid to watch him when we’re gone.” Mac got an idea. “Maybe he could watch your dog, too.”

“Maybe,” Riley said, thoughtfully. Then she realized what she’d said. “I told you, I’m not adopting.”

“And I still don’t believe you,” Mac shot back.

Riley didn’t respond. “Let’s just get you set up,” she said instead, all business.

Riley printed out the adoption application, and Mac filled it out. He was stunned by some of the questions (how long to you expect to keep the pet, would you ever give it up—the only answers were “until it dies” and “no”, right? What else would someone say?). He checked “own my home”, glad he didn’t have to clear it with a landlord.

Mac finished the form, and the volunteer looked it over. “Great. Doesn’t look like there are any problems. Now, here are the form for adopting Bob.” She handed Mac another stack of forms.

Mac groaned. He didn’t have to jump through this many hoops when he joined Phoenix. It was just a cat; why did he feel he was signing his life away, in blood?

Mac scanned the form—indoor only, regular check-ups, no declawing, rescue gets first dibs if he changes his mind (Mac resolved that wasn’t going to happen. He and Newton were in it together, for better or worse). Nothing that looked out of the ordinary, so Mac signed it. It was a shame Newton couldn’t go outside—Mac had that wonderful deck that got great light. He imagined Newton would love basking in it. Oh, well. Mac’s mind raced. Maybe he could do something about that. . .He immediately started making plans in his head. A vision of what he wanted materialized in his mind. Yeah, that’s the ticket. All he’d need was some wood, some fencing. . .Mac itched for paper and pencil to sketch his plans.

The volunteer’s voice brought him back to reality. “Wonderful. Congratulations, Mister--” she looked at the form--”MacGyver. You are now the proud owner of this magnificent cat.” She shoved a bright green folder with Bob written at the top into Mac’s hands. “Here are his medical records.”

Mac scanned them, trying to make sense of them. SNAP test, FIV negative, FeLV negative, rabies shot (that he understood), FeLV shot. “What’s FIV and FeLV?” he asked.

“Feline Leukemia and Feline Immunodeficiency Virus, better known as kitty AIDS,” the volunteer said.

That sounded serious. Good thing Newton was negative. Mac was going to have to read up on all this stuff.

“Do you have a beginner’s guide to cats?” Mac asked, feeling overwhelmed.

“We sure do.” The volunteer handed Mac a pamphlet, entitled “So You Adopted a Cat”. Mac flipped through it. It had a lot of basics—checklist, food, vet care, signs to look out for. It would be very helpful.

The volunteer handed Mac one last thing. “This is a coupon book to get you started. You get a free bag of food, and you’ll find coupons for most of what you’ll need.”

Oh, god, that’s right. He’d have to get stuff for Newton. Just what did a cat need, anyway? Food, litter, toys. . .Mac flipped through the booklet, amazed at all the products a cat might need. What was Mac getting himself into? He really didn’t think this through well at all. Mac had had a dog, but he was just a kid, and his grandfather did most of the work. Mac had never even considered owning a cat, and now he had one. He wasn’t going to back out now; he wanted this cat, and he’d make it work.

“Great, thanks,” Mac said. He shook the volunteer’s hand. “You’ve been very helpful.”

“You’re welcome,” the volunteer said. “Congratulations.”

“Yeah, Mac, congratulations,” Riley echoed. Was that sarcasm he detected?

“Thanks,” Mac said. What had he gotten himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got out of control. First, one story turned into 2 turned into 3, now it's spawning chapters!


	2. Chapter 2

Mac couldn’t wait for the event to be over. He could tell Jack felt the same way; Jack spent the whole day fussing over his dog, only interacting with people when they addressed him directly. Mac wasn’t much better. He built a paperclip chain and dangled it above Newton’s cage, watching the cat twist and turn to get at it. Who needed expensive toys? Mac could make a ton of toys out of odds and ends. He began plotting, ignoring everything around him.

At last, the event ended. Mac wanted to rush home and start building things for Newton, but he’d promised to help take down. Jack was just as reluctant, but, of course, more vocal. “Do I have to help? Look at McClane—he doesn’t want me to leave.” Sure enough, McClane whined every time Jack was out of sight.

“That’s already one spoiled dog,” Mac commented.

“Like you’re any better,” Jack retorted.

It was true. Newton let out a string of annoyed chirps (“And what kind of sound is that?” Jack groused. “Your crazy cat can’t even meow normally”) anytime Mac left to take another carrier to the loading area. That cause Mac to pause and fuss reassuringly at Newton.

Finally, a volunteer took pity on them. “You’re no help. Take your animals and get out of here.” The words were annoyed, but the volunteer had a big smile on her face.

Mac and Jack weren’t going to argue with that. They grabbed their animals, collected Riley (who had, in fact, adopted the poodle--”I told you so,” Mac crowed. “Shut up, Mac.” ), rounded up Bozer, and headed out.

Mac rubbed his hands together. “Now I can start making plans for everything I’m going to make Newton.”

“What are you going to make?” Riley asked, curiously.

“Well, he needs a perch,” Mac said, “and I can build something much better and cheaper than anything I can buy. And toys—he loves a paperclip chain, and I can make all kinds of things to keep him entertained. I was thinking a remote controlled mouse he could start himself. And of course I have a laser pointer for him.”

“That’s great, man,” Bozer said, “but don’t you think you’d better stop by the pet store first?”

“Why?” Mac asked. “I can build everything Newton needs.”

“Not food and litter,” Bozer pointed out, “and I bet he’d like at least one catnip mouse.”

“I bet there’s patterns to knit or crochet one,” Mac said, thoughtfully.

“You don’t crochet, hoss,” Jack pointed out.

Mac deflated, then perked up again. “Hey, Riley, can you make me something?”

“What?!?” Riley exclaimed. “I don’t knit or crochet, and it’s sexist of you to think I do just because I’m a woman.”

“I saw you looking at sweater patterns for you dog,” Mac said.

Riley blushed. “Okay, maybe I was thinking about learning. There’s some really cute patterns.”

“So, you can make Newton a mouse!” Mac said, triumphantly.

Bozer sighed. “Okay, you’ve got a lot of it covered, but you still need a bed and things like that.”

Mac opened his mouth to say something, but Riley cut in. “Don’t look at me. I don’t sew.”

“Yeah, but Bozer does,” Mac said. “Who do you think makes all the costumes for his movies?”

“I am not making you a cat bed,” Bozer said, firmly. “You’re going to buy one. You’re getting a little carried away with this do-it-yourself cat project.”

“But I hate buying things if I can make them,” Mac whined.

“Tough. Get over it,” Bozer said.

Mac sighed. “Fine. Pet store it is.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to TorchwoodCardiff for the name of Riley's poodle. We were going to go with Snowflake, but it didn't fit, for reasons you'll see when I get there.

The Phoenix gang and their newly adopted pets descended on the pet store like a plague of very furry locusts. Once inside, they peeled off in different directions: Riley to the clothing (Mac shuddered to think what sparkly, frilly, pink monstrosity she’d find), Jack to the dog supplies, and Mac to the cat section. Bozer had agreed to do follow-up stories on each of the three for their respective rescues, so he had his camera at the ready. Since Mac was his best friend, Bozer followed Mac first.

They had to get through the toys to get to anything else. Mac blew right past them, certain he could create ones just as good, but Bozer stopped, distracted by the colorful array. He stopped at a pole with a feather dangling from a string. “Look, Mac, Newton would love this.”

Mac barely spared it a glance. “One of the hawk feathers we always find, some twine, and a dowel, and I’ve got something just as good.”

A spinner caught Bozer’s eye next. “How about this?”

“I can build that, too.”

“How about. . .”

Mac fixed Bozer with a glare. “I can build all of it, Bozer. Let it be.”

Bozer was undaunted. He pounced on a simple, furred mouse with a feather tail. “You can’t make this.”

“Actually, I can,” Mac said. “A piece of faux fur around an oval form, and I’m all set.”

Bozer threw up his hands in despair. “There has to be something you can’t make!”

Mac’s eyes swept over the array. He pointed at a squishy ball. “I can’t make that.”

Bozer snatched it up. “What else?”

“That’s it,” Mac said.   
  


“That’s it?” Bozer’s disappointment was clear. Mac just looked at him. “Okay, fine.”

They continued along until Bozer’s eyes lit on the cat trees. “Hey, Mac. . .”

“No, no, and no,” Mac said, dismissing each one as Bozer pointed at it. “I already told you, I’m going to build one, and it’ll be ten times better and ten times cheaper. I’ve got it all planned.”

Bozer’s shoulders drooped. “You’re no fun. I’m going to go see how Riley’s doing. I bet she’s finding all sorts of stuff for Crystal.”

“You do that.”

Bozer left, and Mac felt a pang of guilt for driving him away. The poor guy was just trying to be helpful. It wasn’t his fault Mac was a mechanical genius. Mac turned his attention to the practical stuff: food, litter, dishes. He resolutely refused to get the dishes with kitty faces, or shaped like fish, or with mice decorating the edge, settling on simple metal dishes, even though he could practically hear Bozer and Riley sighing in disappointment. He did cave and get plastic mat with cat silhouettes decorating the border and “Suppertime” in big, red letters in the middle. He probably could have painted a plain mat (or rather had Bozer paint it), but so sue him, he liked it. The others would probably tease him mercilessly, but Mac didn’t care.

Next came beds. It seemed like there must be a hundred different styles—mats, over-sized pillows, round cushions, baskets—shelves and shelves in all shapes and colors. Mac opened the carrier holding Newton and lifted him up, eyeing him for approximate dimensions and immediately eliminating the ones that were clearly too small. That still left an overwhelming number of choices. Mac turned Newton towards the beds. “Which one do you like?”

“Mrrp,” Newton said.

“You’re no help. At least help me pick a color.” He held Newton up against a white bed. “Nope, you blend too well.” Black was next. “Not enough contrast.” Same with brown. Orange was too garish. Plaid was too country—Jack would never let him hear the end of it. Purple and royal blue had possibilities, as did red. Mac contemplated those colors for a moment until a large cushion with a fleece top over green corduroy caught his eye. “What do you think, Newton?”

“Mrrrr,” Newton replied.

“I agree. It’s perfect.” The bed went in the cart.

By the time Mac got to carriers, Bozer was back. He stopped Mac just as he was reaching for a plain, plastic carrier. “You can’t get that.”

“Why not? It’s sturdy, it’s portable, I can put him in from the top or the front, it’s got plastic handles that won’t cut my hands, it’s perfect,” Mac said.

“It’s boring,” Bozer said.

“Why does everything have to be bright and shiny?” Mac demanded. “Why can’t it just be practical?”

“You’re not boring. Why should your cat be?” Bozer said. He looked at the carriers and shoved one resembling a duffle bag at Mac. “Here, try this.”

Mac looked at it. “Camouflage? Really, Bozer? That looks like something Jack would get.”

“Okay, how about this?” Bozer thrust another carrier at Mac.

“Pink with rhinestones? You’ve got to be kidding me. Riley would love it for Crystal, though.”

“I’ll take it to her,” Bozer decided. “You pick out your own. Just don’t make it boring!” he called over his shoulder as he headed off.

“Yes, Bozer,” Mac said, even though Bozer was out of earshot. “Not boring.” He looked at the carriers. He finally selected one decorated with planets and stars. “This seems appropriate.”

Mac looked over the items in his cart. “Food, litter, bed, carrier, dishes, mat, toys I can make, perch I can make, I think I’ve got everything.” He looked at Newton. “Time to go home. Finally.”


	4. Chapter 4

Finally, Mac and Newton arrived home, Bozer trailing after them with his camera.

“And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for,” Bozer narrated. “Newton, formerly known as Bob, has finally arrived at his new home. Will he love it? Will he hate it? We’re about to find out.”

Bozer zoomed in on the carrier as Mac opened it. Newton just sat there, blinking.

“Do something, Mac,” Bozer said. “This is really boring footage.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Mac crouched down and reached for Newton. “C’mon, buddy, come see your new home.”

Newton evaded Mac’s hands and darted out of the carrier and under the couch.

Bozer lowered his camera. “Well, that was anticlimactic. No one wants to see a ball of blurry fur diving under the furniture.”

“Newton’s just scared,” Mac said. “He’ll come out after a while.”

“But, Mac, I want to see Newton’s reaction now,” Bozer whined.

“I think that was his reaction,” Mac pointed out. “It’s a new place, Bozer. Newton’s bound to be uncertain at first. Just give him time.”

“Please, Mac,” Bozer pleaded. “Do something.”

Mac sighed. “Fine.” He fished the paperclip chain he’d been using before out of his pocket and dangled it in front of the couch. “C’mon, Newton, come out and explore.”

Nothing. Mac jiggled the chain. Still nothing. Mac jiggled it a little harder. There was still nothing. Another jiggle. Finally, a tentative paw reached out, batted at the paperclips, and darted back under the couch.

“That’s it, Newton,” Mac said, encouragingly, “you can do it.”

The paw came out again and batted a little more firmly at the chain.

“C’mon, boy,” Mac said, “a little further.” He slowly dragged the chain further away from the couch. Nothing happened for a bit, then the paw shot out again, and a fuzzy head peeked out.

“Almost there,” Mac said. “Just a bit more.” He pulled the paperclips back just a little more.

Mac could see Newton’s face now. The green eyes darted back and forth, mesmerized by the chain. Mac couldn’t see Newton’s tail, but he imagined if it were long, it would be twitching back and forth as the cat sized up his prey. Mac wondered fleetingly if Newton’s butt wiggled instead of his tail.

He didn’t have time to wonder further as a large body shot out from under the couch and pounced on the paperclip chain.

“Yes!” Bozer shouted. “That’s got him!”

Newton froze at the sound and looked around in a panic. Then he darted back under the couch.

“You scared him,” Mac chided. “Now, I have to coax him out all over again.”

The wait was much shorter this time. Newton had fallen under the spell of the paperclip chain. He leaped at it and rolled around, wrapping it around him.

Mac dropped the chain and crouched down, holding his hand out to Newton. “Hey, buddy, want to come say hi?”

Newton stopped playing with the chain and contemplated Mac’s hand. Mac wiggled it, enticingly. Newton crept slowly towards Mac and sniffed at his hand. Mac waited, patiently. Newton butted against Mac’s hand, and Mac obligingly scratched the furry head. Soon, Newton was purring. Mac sat cross-legged on the floor, and Newton crawled into his lap, happily kneading Mac’s jeans. Mac ignored the tiny pinpricks and grinned at the cat. “Welcome home, Newton.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this was supposed to be the start of Mac's kitty DIY, but this story has a mind of its own. . .


	5. Chapter 5

Now Mac had a problem. His lap was full of purring cat, and he was afraid to move for fear Newton would dart back under the couch. Maybe Newton would get bored and move soon.

No such luck. Satisfied with his kneading, Newton curled into a ball and settled into Mac’s lap for a nice nap. Frustrated, Mac sat there on the floor, unable to do anything. He couldn’t even get to his phone without disturbing Newton; he tried to reach under the cat and into his pocket, but Newton stirred, and Mac froze. Newton settled back down, but Mac didn’t try again.

Mac got an idea. “Hey, Bozer,” he said, softly.

“Yeah?” Bozer replied. It was his normal voice, but Mac flinched, afraid it would disturb Newton. He put a finger to his lips. “Yeah?” Bozer repeated, much softer.

“Hand me your phone.”

Bozer looked suspicious. “Why? You’re not going to blow something up in our living room, are you?”

Mac looked exasperated. “Bozer, I just want to use it to Google something.”

“Why can’t you use your phone?”

Mac gestured at his lap.

“Oh, right.” Bozer handed it over.

Careful not to disturb Newton, Mac typed “homemade cat toys” into Google. The first thing that came up was “The 10 Best Homemade Cat Toys”. Jackpot!

Mac skimmed the projects. Some, like the homemade string and feather toy, he’d already thought of. Some, like the felt emojis, didn’t appeal to him. The pipe cleaner ball was a good idea, but it didn’t look very substantial, and he didn’t want Newton chewing on it. There were several that appealed to Mac. “Hey, here’s a use for all our old 12-pack boxes. I can make a whack-a-mole game for Newton.”

Bozer peered over Mac’s shoulder. “That’s cool! Newton’ll love that! And you two can play together!”

“Yeah,” Mac said. He pointed to the last project. “Look, we can make stuffed mice out of all those bloodstained shirts of Jack’s. Then we won’t be wasting them.”

“Who’s this we?” Bozer demanded. “I already told you, I’m not sewing for your cat.”

“Ah, come on,” Mac whined. “Pretty please?”

“No way,” Bozer said, firmly. “Make them yourself.”

“But I don’t sew.”

Bozer jabbed his fingers at the screen. “There’s step by step instructions. Figure it out.”

Mac sighed in resignation. “Fine.”

Mac bookmarked the page and went looking for other ideas. He found plenty. He saved some more bookmarks and made some more notes. One of the projects that really appealed to him was a t-shirt tent. He had several old t-shirts he could use. Jack had even more, but he didn’t think he could get Jack to part with one of his band t-shirts, no matter how old and worn it was—heaven forbid he ask for one of Jack’s Metallica t-shirts!

Mac lost track of time as he made notes. Newton snoozed on. Finally, he decided he had enough ideas—he could make a veritable toy-store for Newton with all the ideas he’d found. Now, he just had to wait for Newton to wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, next chapter he'll start making toys. He has plenty of ideas now!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we get Mac making some things for Newton!

After a while, Mac’s butt went numb, and he decided it was time to wake Newton up. “Hey, buddy, you’ve slept enough. Up and at ‘em.”

Newton woke with a start and darted back under the couch. Mac sighed. So much for progress. Hopefully, he’d come out soon. Mac decided to start with a simple toy not requiring much in terms of materials and effort, and maybe it would lure Newton out.

One of the things he read suggested filling a film canister with coins. Mac didn’t have one of those, but he did have a number of empty pill bottles from all the pain killers Medical kept sending home with him. He figured those would work just as well.

Mac fetched the needed materials. The bottle was just the right size for quarters, and they jingled nicely. Once the toy was prepared, Mac tossed it in front of the couch. It made an enticing jingling noise, and sure enough, a paw darted out from under the couch. The bottle rolled a few inches, still jingling. Soon, Newton came out and batted it around. Mac chuckled as he watched Newton roll around the floor clutching the toy, then letting it go and sending it skittering across the floor with one good swipe of his paw. Clearly, the toy was a hit. (Mac would later regret it when Newton batted the toy into Mac’s bedroom in the middle of the night, causing Mac to startle awake and reach for something to defend himself. Cat got toy taken away, and Mac was sure Newton pouted. Clearly, it was a daytime only toy).

While Newton played, Mac tried to decide what to do next. So may choices! He didn’t want to disappear into his workshop while Newton was still getting used to Mac and the house, and the toys he had in mind for that took considerably more time and effort. So, start with what he could easily make in the house. Since Newton seemed to like to hide right now, Mac decided to start with the [t-shirt tent](https://dearcrissy.com/diy-cat-tent-for-kitties-who-play-hard/#_a5y_p=4377852).

Mac pulled up the instructions: hangars, cardboard, duct tape, wire cutters, pliers, X-acto knife, hole punch, t-shirt. All things he had lying around. Mac could make a spiffier tent with cloth and wire from his workshop, but where was the fun in that? After all, Mac was known for improvising, and this was right up his alley.

Mac bent the hangars into arches and secured them to the cardboard. He then fit the t-shirt around the frame, taping it to the bottom of the cardboard and making sure the neck hole was centered. The instructions called for a medium t-shirt, but Mac used one of Jack’s extra large t-shirts lying around (no, not one of his band t-shirts; Mac wasn’t suicidal) and adjusted the size of the base accordingly; Newton was a big cat, and he wanted to make sure the hole was big enough and Newton had enough space.

Once the tent was done, Mac lined it with an old towel and set it up in a corner of the living room. Then he set about attracting Newton’s attention. Mac snapped his fingers. “Hey, Newton! Over here, boy!”

Newton paused mid-kick where he was pounding the pill bottle with his back feet. “Mrrp?”

Mac snapped again. “Over here. I’ve got something for you.”

Newton immediately abandoned the pill bottle and sat up. “Mrrr?”

“Look, it’s a hidey-hole.”

Newton crouched down and examined the tent, carefully. He inched towards it, sniffing tentatively when he was close enough. He didn’t go in, though.

“Go on. Check it out,” Mac urged.

Newton rubbed against it but showed no inclination to enter. Finally, Mac grabbed a couple of treats and threw them in. That did it. Newton darted in and gobbled up the treats.

“That’s it. Isn’t it cozy?”

Newton explored the inside as thoroughly as he had the outside. Finally satisfied, he shoved the towel around and kneaded it until it suited him. Then, he curled up for another nap (man, cats slept a lot. Mac had read that, but it hadn’t hit home until he had a cat of his own).

Mac beamed. Success!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filling a canister with quarters was a tip I got. It worked great, except that I gave it to the cat at bedtime in my bedroom. At 2 am, cat and canister got moved to the living room, but it didn't help much because it was a 650 sq ft apartment.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot going on in this chapter, and it's kind of scattered. Hope you enjoy, anyway!
> 
> Thanks to Rai_Knightshade for some of the ideas for the exchange with Jack.
> 
> Thanks to Elizabeth Wilson for the ball of paper and batting practice idea.

Mac spent the rest of the afternoon working on simple cat toys and playing with Newton when he came out of the tent. Mac took some toilet paper rolls and stuck pom-poms on them to dress them up (Bozer had an amazing stash of odds-and-ends from his costuming, including a huge bag of pom-poms. Why, Mac didn’t want to ask). He folded the ends of one of toilet paper rolls and put treats in it. Newton loved that. He spent nearly an hour puzzling out how to get the treat out before ripping the roll to shreds with his teeth (for a cat named Newton, Mac wasn’t sure he was all that bright). Mac stuck some feathers in old corks for Newton to bat around (the feathers were another find from Bozer’s stash; for some reason, the entire bag was hot pink, another thing Mac was pretty sure he didn’t want to know). That was an other hit. After that, he figured Newton had enough toys to get started, so Mac started sketching designs for some of the ones he wanted to build in his workshop.

That led Mac to inadvertently discovering another cat toy. He got fed up with the design he was working on, and in frustration ripped it out of his notebook, balled it up, and tossed it on the floor. Newton had been dozing on the couch next to Mac, but the cat was instantly alert when the wad of paper hit the floor. He pounced on it, batting it back and forth between his paws, then batting it into the air and swiping at it, sending it several feet across the room.

Newton seemed to enjoy that, so Mac picked up the ball and lightly tossed it at Newton. One swing of the paw sent the ball flying. Newton raced after it.

“Newton, bring it back here,” Mac encouraged.

The cat snarled and clutched the wad of paper to his chest.

“Come on. I’ll throw it again.”

Newton seemed to consider that, then ignored Mac in favor of playing with the paper himself, repeating the batting between his paws and throwing it up in the air.

Bozer came out in time to see the ball fly across the room after a swipe by Newton’s paw.

“Wow, that’s pretty impressive. How far do you think he can hit it?”

“Pretty far,” Mac said. He waited for the paper to land away from Newton and scooped it up. “Watch this.”

Mac tossed the ball at Newton, and Newton batted it away. It landed at Bozer’s feet. Bozer picked it up and tossed it in turn.

The three of them played catch (or maybe more like batting practice) until Newton lost interest and retreated back into his tent.

Bozer watched him go. “That’s a cool tent. Did you make it?”

“Yeah, out of some coat hangers, cardboard, and an old t-shirt. I found the instructions online.”

Bozer looked more closely. “Is that Jack’s t-shirt?”

“Yeah, he left it here,” Mac said.

“Man, he’s not going to like that.”

“It’s not like I used one of his band t-shirts,” Mac defended himself. “I think it’s one of the ones he left here after he got blood on it.”

“He’s still not going to be happy,” Bozer said.

“So, we just won’t tell him,” Mac replied.

That turned out to be easier said than done. Jack turned up with a 12-pack of beer (Mac immediately started picturing it with holes for the whack-a-mole game he wanted to make for Newton) and pizza about dinnertime. With McClane.

“Hey, hey, hey, you can’t bring that dog in here,” Mac said when he met Jack at the door.

“Ah, come on, Mac,” Jack pleaded. “I can’t leave him at home. I just got him. He’ll think I abandoned him.”

“Well, you can’t bring him in here. He’ll scare Newton.”

“Please, Mac?” Jack’s puppy dog eyes weren’t enough to sway Mac, but McClane’s were.

“Fine. Bring him in. But if he scares Newton, he stays in the car.”

“McClane will be an angel,” Jack said. “You won’t even know he’s here.”

Mac sighed. “I sincerely doubt that.”

Turned out Mac was right. McClane came in docilely enough and settled at Jack’s feet in front of the couch, but then Newton came out of his tent. McClane’s ears perked up, and he let out a woof.

Newton froze. McClane let out another woof, and Newton arched his back and hissed. He didn’t have a tail to fluff, but he did the best he could with what he had.

McClane was undaunted. He sat up and bounded over to Newton, giving him a sloppy lick with his big, wet tongue.

Newton was not pleased. He swiped at McClane, connecting with the dog’s vulnerable nose. The dog let out a startled yip.

“Jack, get your dog under control,” Mac ordered.

“Sorry, Mac. McClane, come!”

McClane slunk back to Jack and stared balefully up at his person. Jack examined McClane’s nose. “You’ll be okay. The nasty cat didn’t draw blood.”

“Serve him right if he did,” Mac muttered. They both watched as Newton stalked off to his tent.

“Hey, is that my shirt?” Jack asked.

Mac stilled. Uh-oh. He’d been found out. “Uh, yes?”

“Why is the cat lying inside my shirt?”

“I made a tent out of it,” Mac said, inanely.

He should have known that wasn’t going to placate Jack. “I can see that. The question is, why?”

“Your shirts are larger. I wanted him to have enough room.”

“That better not be one of my band t-shirts,” Jack said, dangerously.

“It’s not,” Mac hastened to assure him. “It’s just a plain black t-shirt. Pretty sure you buy them by the dozen at Wal-Mart.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you used one of my shirts without asking.”

“It was for a good cause!” Mac protested.

Jack looked at the tent. Newton was standing guard at the entrance, glaring at McClane. The cat did seem to like it. “Okay, fine,” Jack relented, “but I get one of your shirts to tie into knots to play tug-of-war with McClane.”

Mac sighed in relief. “Deal.”


	8. Chapter 8

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully. McClane wasn’t exactly an angel (he managed to steal a piece of pizza before Jack could stop him and knocked over Mac’s beer running away from Jack when Jack tried to get the pizza back), but he did spend most of the time lying quietly, first at Jack’s feet, then between them on the couch, and after the first spat, he left Newton alone. Newton eventually deigned to come out and lounge on the back of the couch, eyeing McClane warily. Mac figured it was probably the best they were going to get.

Jack and McClane left about midnight, and Mac cleaned up the mess, placing the remaining beers in the fridge and setting aside the box for his wack-a-mole game. When he was ready for bed, he said goodnight to Newton who was still on the back of the couch.

“Hey, Newton, want to come to bed?”

The cat opened one eye and closed it again.

“Fine, have it your way. Sleep out here if you want.” Mac figured he was lucky Newton was still out in the open and not in his tent or under the couch.

Mac made his way into his room and got ready for bed. He turned out the light and slid under the covers, closing his eyes and hoping sleep came quickly.

It didn’t. As usual, Mac had trouble turning his brain off. This time it whirred with designs for toys and perches for Newton, each one getting more outlandish as he slid closer and closer to sleep. Mac was imagining a four-story castle with battlements, a moat, and gun turrets when he got the feeling he was being watched.

Mac really wanted to ignore the feeling, but years as a spy had taught him being watched was a very real possibility, and it wouldn’t be the first time a bad guy had gotten into his house. Mac debated what to do: continue pretending to sleep, or go for the element of surprise and sit up. He decided on the former. Mac lay there, purposely keeping his breathing deep and even, relaxing his muscles even as they wanted to tense preparatory to springing. The feeling didn’t go away.

Mac was just about to try rolling onto his back to see if he could see anything when he felt a pat on his ankle. What the hell? Was the intruder trying to see if Mac was awake? Time to show his hand.

Mac rolled onto his back and shot upright. “Who’s there?”

All he got was a startled “Mrrr!” and a flash of stumpy tail as Newton leaped off the bed and ran under it.

Mac took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart. It was just Newton. Mac probably scared the cat as much as he scared Mac.

Mac carefully got out of bed and knelt on the floor. He lifted up the edge of the bedspread and peered under the bed. A pair of glowing green eyes peered out at him. “Hey, buddy, I didn’t mean to scare you. You just startled me, that’s all.” Mac wiggled his fingers enticingly. “Come on out.”

The eyes drew back further. Mac sighed and gave up. Maybe if he lay down again, Newton would venture out.

That was what happened. Mac had only been lying down a few minutes when he heard a chirp from the end of the bed. He carefully propped himself up on his hand and looked at the foot of the bed. A pair of shadowy ears rose above the mattress and sank down again. Mac waited. After a few minutes, the ears rose and ducked down again. A few more minutes, and the actions repeated a third time. This time, the ears stayed down.

Mac decided not to rush Newton. If the cat wanted to come up, he would, and Mac wouldn’t pressure him. Maybe it wouldn’t be tonight. Maybe it would be tomorrow, or next week, or even in a month. Mac was sure Newton would join him, though.

Mac settled down to sleep. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep when he felt a pat on his face. He wrinkled his nose and swatted at whatever it was. The patting repeated. Mac cracked open one eye, only to be confronted with a pink nose and whiskers up close and personal. “Agggh!” Mac cried, rolling away.

That sent Newton back under the bed. “Damn,” Mac cursed. He’d have to quit startling the cat. Still, Newton was definitely curious. If Mac could just keep from startling every time Newton approached him, he just might have a fuzzy bed buddy.

Once again, Mac lay down. This time, his sleep wasn’t interrupted, or, at least, Mac didn’t fully awaken. He had dreams of feathers tickling his face, and far-off noises haunted him like weird birds, but he managed to ignore them and stay asleep.

In the morning, Mac woke with a heavy weight on his side. He panicked, afraid he had been captured and was being held down. He thrashed, and an indignant “Mrrowp!” sounded. Abruptly, the pressure was gone.

Dammit, Mac had done it again. Clearly, spies were not meant to sleep with cats. “Sorry, Newton,” Mac said to the room at large. There was no immediate response, but then, Mac hadn’t expected one. Mac lay back to enjoy a few more minutes before he got up. He felt a thump as something landed on the mattress.

This time, Mac was prepared. He held still as Newton walked up his body and settled on his chest. “Hey, boy. How are you this morning?”

Newton let out a “Mrrp” as if to say “Fine, and how are you?” He curled up in a ball and dozed off, purring contentedly. Mac watched him sleep, finding the purring soothing. Mac could get used to this. Maybe this would work after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't forgotten this! Just struggling to get motivated. Hopefully, it won't be 3 weeks until the next update. I've got more DIY cat toys up my sleeve!

**Author's Note:**

> This got out of control. First, one story turned into 2 turned into 3, now it's spawning chapters!


End file.
